top of page

The Crow's Call

high above the entranced bowers Romeo hangs entwined in vines of flowers

round thy neck one leapless fall from slippery stone dost thou find resolve

dost thou treading airwaves flicker kicking foot by foot to grasp at imaginary

towered treads for a moments linger for a second breath would be enough

would be enough to live again for a moment s recollection for a second guess

at the dagger's point the holy blood dripping from the freshly sharpened blade

needst thou only to return to the altar made for the date, to then cut the vine

and desecrate the sacred art, it is a death of a drop made to be, falling deeply

down the mainsail swiftly breezing Pan catches himself dosing off in fields forgot

Recent Posts

See All

The Hourglass

Point A Needle To The Sky, Centered Minds Point A Gun To My Head, Circumstantial Ends Point A : The Diamond Sutra, Centrifical Forces Yet There Are One Thousand Arms Tied Up In The Book Of The Dead An


never was there such a hand beneath the sin play to the part of the devil's grinning twas there such a death as to it


bottom of page